


True Colors

by A_bit_not_good_yeah



Series: After Hours [1]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, Identity Porn, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bit_not_good_yeah/pseuds/A_bit_not_good_yeah
Summary: He should be running, he should be resisting, he should be doing anything but staring at the place where Ed’s hand was on his thigh and feeling it burn and burn and burn. Ed ducks his head so his lips are brushing warm against Richard’s ear. “Jared’s in here, you know. God, he gets so fucking hot when you get all spazzed out and stammery like that. I don’t get it, but,” he shrugs a little, indifferent, “I owe him one. And he’s got all kinds of ideas about how I can repay him. The shit he wants to do to you, dude. You have no idea.”In which Richard has a close encounter with Ed Chambers. Late at night. In his office. On top of his desk.
Relationships: Ed Chambers/Richard Hendricks, Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Series: After Hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657078
Comments: 21
Kudos: 69
Collections: Silicon Valley Winter Exchange 2k19





	True Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackfodder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfodder/gifts).



> Written for the SV Exchange 2K19 for the lovely blackfodder. Based on the prompt pairing of Ed Chambers/Richard, the dirtier the better, and this exact quote: "If you’ve ever stopped yourself from writing something because you thought the fandom would judge you. Give me that." 
> 
> Well...here is by far the weirdest, stickiest, darkest thing I've ever written for Jared and Richard so I hope this satisfies. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS: Ed is you know, kind of an awful person, so the things he does here include a total disregard for getting consent and for safe sexual practices. Richard is enjoying himself, but there are elements of mild dubcon at play here. Ed also uses a mild homophobic slur. This is not a healthy encounter between these two, so please be responsible when reading if you are sensitive to these themes.

The ding is what stops him. Richard is packing up to leave but the Hooli calendar alert stops him in his tracks, because the sound is so unfamiliar. _I stopped using Hooli calendar years ago_ , he thinks, but the distinctive, cheery _ding!_ of the alert brings him up short. He bends at the waist, his messenger bag already slung over his shoulder, to investigate what possible appointment he could have at this hour. 

What he sees causes his stomach to flip in dismay: _Ed Chambers, 10:30 pm - 11:00 pm, Richard’s office._

“Fuck,” he murmurs, and his mouth twists unhappily. He’s been putting off dealing with this, but it looks like Jared has given him no choice. He places his bag down by his desk and slumps back into his CEO chair, already feeling a stress headache brewing. When a long shadow appears in his doorway, backlit by the secondary safety lights that kicked on after 10 in the main work area, Richard waves him in. As his stomach cramps in nervous anticipation, he thinks _Let’s get this over with._

He and Jared are the only ones left in the office, as they are on most nights, but when Jared enters, he looks different than usual. Taller. Which is like, impossible, but it’s true. Richard blinks at him, trying to refocus so that the picture in front of him makes more sense, but Jared’s still there, leaning against the glass doorframe, almost like he’s...bored? 

“Hey uh. Jared, come on in man. I guess you were trying to get my attention with that calendar invite, huh? That was uh. Funny.” Richard smiles tight-lipped, his attempt at levity falling flat. Jared is still leaning in the doorway, his usual disarming curves - that upside-down smile, his neatly combed hair, his curled-in roly-poly posture - replaced by long lines that feel the opposite of disarming. Very, very arming.

 _This feels weird,_ he thinks as his heart rate kicks up a little. Richard presses on, unnerved, but determined. "So. Anyway, um, Jared I - I thought we talked about this. Ed Chambers isn't real.” Here he levels a gaze at Jared waiting for a reply, but Jared stays stony silent, still leaning in that vexing way, so Richard continues. “You know that, right? Like, it feels kinda weird that I'm hearing about phone calls Ed is making to our developers or that the other day you apparently told Danny you were crushing pussy ‘daily and nightly and ever so rightly’ which is just. I mean, you know this has to stop, right?”

Jared stares at him and lets his tongue sweep over his lower lip in a way that makes Richard feel uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. Jared looks at him with shining adoration, pride, concern - sometimes even worship. He never _leers_ like this. He still looks so infuriatingly _bored_ but also kind of...predatory? Sizing Richard up. Like he’s a lion and Richard is a gazelle named Lunch. He finally pushes off the doorway and begins to - there’s no other word for it - _amble_ into the office. When he speaks, it’s as if Richard hasn’t said anything.

"Y’know, I can sort of see why Jared won't shut the fuck up about you. Although you could definitely stand to do some reps at the gym, bro. Have you ever tried CrossFit?"

 _Jared’s possessed. He would never talk to me like that. Just last week he said I had the physique of a young Tom Skerritt._ He switches tactics, trying to regain control of the situation by injecting as much steel into his voice as he can manage. “Jared - sit down, this is serious.”

Instead of obeying instantly like Richard was expecting, Jared ignores the chairs in the office and comes around the side of the desk to lean against it, right next to Richard’s CEO chair. He’s so close their legs are almost touching, and Richard can feel the heat of his body in the small space between them. Again, Jared continues like Richard hasn’t said anything at all.

“You like Jared, don’t you, Richard?”

“Wh-what? Of course I like you, why are you - the third person thing is kinda creepy, if you could um. Jared, just, I’m getting concerned here...”

“Because Jared likes you. Not only that, Jared _wants_ you. He’s fucking _whipped_ for you, and you’ve never even touched him. He’s out there keeping it one hundred for you and you’re being a total cocktease. Do you think that’s _fair_ , bro?”

Richard’s eyes widen in shock and his mouth drops open as a flash of heat runs through him. They’re not talking about this, they _never_ talk about this - it’s like the one fucking cardinal rule of existing in this world as "Richard and Jared" is that they _do not talk about this._ “I’m not - jesus, man, that’s not uh, appropriate, you’re. Jared, I’m your fucking boss, ok? This has to stop NOW.”

Jared clicks his tongue and shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in Richard’s answer. “You don’t get it, do you? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius or whatever.” He leans forward, bending nearly at the waist, and places a hot, broad hand on Richard’s thigh that feels like it’s burning right through Richard’s clothes. “Jared’s not driving the bus right now.”

This is - this is fucked up in a way Richard wasn’t expecting and he jerks away from the touch on reflex, but he can still feel Jared’s(?) handprint on his skin like a brand. Is this some kind of split personality thing like that movie James McAvoy got totally ripped for? Should he like, call someone? The cops? The hospital? An exorcist? Who do you even call for this?? His brain starts helpfully playing the _Ghostbusters_ theme and he scrubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“Hey now, uh, uh - listen. That’s not...” The words die on his tongue as Jared...as _ED_ pulls the arm of the chair closer so that Richard can’t get away and Richard lets out a little whimper he’s not very proud of. He should be running, he should be resisting, he should be doing anything but staring at the place where Ed’s hand was on his thigh and feeling it burn and burn and burn. Ed ducks his head so his lips are brushing warm against Richard’s ear. “Jared’s in here, you know. God, he gets so fucking hot when you get all spazzed out and stammery like that. I don’t get it, but,” he shrugs a little, indifferent, “I owe him one. And he’s got all _kinds_ of ideas about how I can repay him. The shit he wants to do to you, dude. You have no idea.”

At this point, Richard’s brain is stuck on the equivalent of the beach ball of death - a total system reboot is necessary for him to process that 

1) Jared is the best person Richard knows and someone he cares about, probably more than a boss should care about an employee;

2) Jared may or may not have multiple personalities living inside him; 

3) one of those personalities appears to be propositioning him right now; 

4) his fight or flight response has clearly been coded wrong because: 

4a) he can’t seem to move at all and 

4b) the combination of Ed’s words and his proximity and the scent of danger rolling off him is making Richard start to chub up in his khakis.

Ed pulls back a little and looks down as if he can tell the effect this is having, then smirks at Richard. The expression looks foreign on Jared’s face, but as Richard makes eye contact with the man in front of him, he can see that Ed’s telling the truth. Jared isn’t in charge right now, and neither, apparently, is Richard. Ed is.

“I fucking knew it, I knew you’d give it up easy. All you want is someone to want you so bad they can’t control themselves. If Jared weren’t such a little bitch he could have had this ass years ago.” 

Suddenly, Ed’s hands are slipping between Richard’s ass and the chair, and he hauls Richard up to standing with a low chuckle. Richard yelps as he’s pulled forward, trapped in Ed’s arms, and his face heats at how small he feels, how out of control. There’s a grain of truth in every terrible word that comes out of that familiar mouth, so unfamiliar now. Richard wants to crawl away from it, defend himself against this onslaught of every dark secret desire that they _don’t talk about_ , that he’s never _allowed them to talk about_ , but he can’t.

“I don’t - I’m not -” he tries, but his protests sound as half-hearted to him as they do to Ed, who lets out a full-throated laugh and then crushes their mouths together. It feels less like a kiss and more like a fist, but Richard moans into it nonetheless as Ed’s tongue curls behind his teeth. _This is wrong, this is so fucked up,_ you’re _so fucked up._ Ed hauls Richard closer, forcing him to straddle one long thigh; when they grind against each other, Richard knows Ed can feel the hardening cock against his leg, and a shiver runs through him. With another dark laugh, Ed breaks the kiss, taunting him, teasing him. Richard’s eyes squeeze shut and he buries his face into the crook of this interloper’s neck as he feels himself growing even harder.

“God, you’re so hard up for it, aren’t you?” Ed marvels, kneading at the muscle of Richard’s ass. “I told that pussy all he had to do was make a move - you look like you’re practically begging for a good fucking to level you out, bro. He knew I was the man for the job to give you what you really need.” At this, one huge, broad hand snakes between them and pops the button open on Richard’s pants, tugging the zipper down as Ed roughly shoves his hand in and takes hold of Richard’s cock. 

It's like the lighting of the Rockefeller center Christmas tree inside him, a sudden surge of energy through every nerve ending he has. But instead of light filling him up, it's _want_ , and he feels more than hears the low moan that seems to be ripped from his chest. He should say something, stop this, this, this close encounter with something he doesn't understand before it goes too far ( _too late for that_ ) but when he opens his mouth, his eyes wide and pleading, nothing comes out. The hot, open press of a mouth ( _not just any mouth,_ Jared’s _mouth, you’ve dreamed about that mouth for years but we don’t do this, we can’t do this_ ) against his neck, teeth grazing against his pulse point - that's what undoes Richard, and he sags against Ed who's lazily pumping Richard's dick in his hand like he's got all the time in the world.

"That's it baby, you just need a firm hand, isn't that right? Jared wants to worship you and cherish you or some bullshit like that, I wasn't really listening. But I told him nah - what you need is someone to push you face down, ass up and use every slutty hole you got. So we compromised."

Richard is on his tiptoes, trying to remain balanced as he rides the long, hard line of Ed's thigh like a hobby horse. It takes almost nothing to tip him off balance and suddenly Ed is pivoting him, bending him in half over the arms of the CEO chair. Distantly, he feels his pants and boxers being tugged down, and by the time he has the presence of mind to ask, “Wait, what are you--” there are hands, huge strong hands pulling his cheeks apart and then a hot, slick tongue licking a stripe over his hole. 

Richard yelps and tries to crawl away, but his pants are hobbling his ankles and Ed just laughs that low, dark laugh again. Jesus, Richard can feel Ed's warm breath against his asshole and he's not sure how he's still so hard when all the blood is rushing to his face, hot and ashamed. No one’s ever touched him here like this - Richard’s fumbling fingers in the privacy of his loft bed hardly seem a comparison - and as Ed flicks his tongue against the rim of his opening, soft and wet and coaxing, Richard feels like he’s on fire underwater. The sensation is washing over him in waves, relentless, and when Ed hums _into him_ , Richard moans long and loud in the echoing quiet of his office. Biting his lip hard enough to bruise, Richard arches his back a little, his body reaching for more, and he can practically hear Ed’s pleased smirk. 

“ _Slut,_ ” Ed breathes, and then presses in close again, licking and - oh god - _slipping his tongue inside_ , just a little, just the tip, but it feels immense, enormous. Scrabbling for purchase, Richard’s hands white-knuckle around the other armrest of the chair. He turns his head to hide his face, his open mouth pressed against his bicep to muffle his groans. The rumpled fabric of his hoodie is damp and hot under his mouth and his chest is heaving with each breath as Ed relentlessly works him open.

He hears rustling behind him but it doesn't register, nothing can distract him from the maddening slick tease of Ed's tongue pushing, retreating, _wriggling_ into him with purpose and incredible fucking skill. But then that wicked tongue is gone, the hands on his ass removed. An ice pick of fear slips into his stomach as Richard feels suddenly cold and open. Vulnerable. He's uncomfortably aware of the spectacle he's making of himself: the arm rest is digging into his belly and his cock is hanging hard and heavy between his splayed thighs. 

"Hey, what - don't -" but Ed doesn't seem interested in what he has to say. A firm hand grips the curls at the crown of his head and shoves his face down at the same time he feels a shock of cool wetness against his sensitive hole and two fingers slip-sliding along his ass crack. 

"You know what Jared's most secret little fantasy is, Richard?" Ed punctuates the question by tugging at the fistful of hair in his hand and Richard hisses, his dick pulsing at the pleasure-pain of it. 

"No," he whispers, shuddering as Ed's fingers play against his opening, they're wet, he's so fucking _wet._

"He daydreams about blowing you under this desk like, all the time. Folding himself up nice and neat and going down on you while you answer emails or review budget reports. He doesn't want to be - what did he say? - oh right," Ed laughs meanly. "'A bother.' Like he doesn't even want you to notice him so he can give you head and then just disappear like a blow job fairy or some shit. Fucking pathetic." 

The image floods through Richard of Jared kneeling, folding like a paper crane under Richard's expansive desk. Jared's earnest blue eyes meeting his while that soft upside-down smile opens up to accept the head of his cock. He'd be so patient. _I bet he'd stay down there for hours, letting you use him up as long as you want. So grateful to be useful._ Richard gulps and tries to suppress his full-body shiver, but it’s difficult when Ed’s fingers are still circling and teasing at his rim, ramping him up to desperation. The shiver doesn't escape Ed's notice.

"Yeah? You'd like that? Little power play fantasy, big dick CEO shit, right?"

Richard winces - it’s all so _crass_ when Ed puts it like that - but the hand in his hair tugs again and Richard can’t help but moan out, “Yes, fuck, I - yes.”

“Mm. I think - and Jared agrees with me - there’s something you’d like more.” Without warning, Ed pushes his two fingers inside where Richard is slick and open and grasping. 

“Turns out the only thing Jared wants more than to blow you under the desk is to fuck you on top of it.”

Richard _keens_ , the onslaught of Ed's fingers and his words almost too much to bear. The burn is intense, delicious, and Richard hates how much he wants more. As if reading his mind, Ed crowds in close and speaks low and intimate into Richard's ear.

"You want that too, don't you?"

Richard can feel the hot line of Ed's bare cock pressed against his thigh, and the seeking, twisting shocks of pleasure as Ed's fingers work inside him. He closes his eyes tight and nods deliriously, but Ed's fingers dig even deeper against his scalp and he crooks his fingers just so, stroking slow and deep over that spot inside that makes Richard see stars. 

"Say it, you pussy, say what you want or you don't get to have our dick." Ed grinds against Richard, using the hand in Richard's hair to pull him back as Ed rolls his hips forward, and all the while those fingers inside him are scissoring and stretching him wider, the pleasure rolling through him like thunder. Richard nods again, something like a sob breaking loose from his chest, but Ed tsks at him and slowly starts to withdraw his fingers.

"Not good enough, man. What a fucking waste. After Jared goes to all this trouble, calls in a favor from yours truly to give you what you need on a silver platter and you _still_ can't even admit what you want? You don't deserve this dick, bro." Ed sounds disappointed, almost disgusted, and the words cut into Richard as another wave of hot shame floods through him.

"I know," he croaks, and Ed shoves his fingers roughly back in, startling a high wordless cry out of Richard.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I know!" Richard yelps as Ed thrusts in again, _fuck_ it feels so good he can’t stand it, "I know I don't, can’t deserve - but I, I want it, I need it, fucking - please." It feels like the words are being pulled out of him by a force stronger than gravity and Ed rewards him by letting go of his hair and gripping his chin instead, pulling him into a biting, filthy kiss. 

When Ed breaks the kiss with a sharp nip to Richard's lower lip, he asks again, breathing harsh against Richard's mouth - "Say it. Tell me what you want Jared to do to you and I'll do it, but you gotta say it, Richard, or you don't get to have this."

"Please," Richard whispers, eyes screwed shut, unable to look at the face in front of him. Unsure if he's asking for a reprieve or a resolution. If he closes his eyes, this can all stay just a strange fever dream, something he’s craved for so long but will only allow himself to have in this private, twisted fantasy. He knows he shouldn’t want it, that he should spare Jared from being tainted by his entire anxious, jealous, possessive, fucked up mess of an existence, but Ed is offering this and he wants it so much, he _wants_. "Please," he swallows hard, "f...fuck me, I want you to, I want...I want it."

"Fuck yeah you do," Ed replies and pulls his fingers out as he hauls Richard up off the chair, his fist bunched in the fabric of Richard's hood. Richard braces his arms in front of him just in time to prevent face-planting onto the surface of his desk. He shoves his keyboard out of the way; the ceramic dinosaur is knocked off with a crash. The CEO chair nearly tips over as Ed kicks it out of the way and he reaches around to palm roughly over Richard's leaking cock, as if confirming for them both that Richard was telling the truth. The whimper Richard lets out is loud. Ed's chuckle is louder. Scrabbling for purchase, Richard grips the edge of the desk and then finally, _finally_ Ed's huge warm hand is back, spreading Richard open. Guiding his thick, hard cock to nudge against Richard's wet hole and Richard pushes back, greedy for it.

"Patience, bruh," Ed says, smacking Richard's ass in warning and wrapping his other hand around Richard's hipbone. He's going to have fingerprint-bruises tomorrow, and the thought makes his dick pulse a long drip of precum. Letting his forehead rest against the desk, Richard breathes in and out of his nose and tries to hold still, but it's almost impossible as Ed slides into him inch by torturous inch. Every nerve ending he has is focused on the place where Ed is breaching him and the press of Ed's fingers into his skin. 

He thought Ed would be fast and rough. Using him up, leaving him battered and filthy, marked and desperate and begging to come. A pathetic ruin and a monument to Richard's own cowardice and denial. But instead it's so much worse.

Ed is not rough, he is firm. He is not fast, he is thorough. He doesn't snap his hips, he _rolls_ them, filling Richard up and withdrawing in long, smooth waves. He curls over Richard, presses him down into the desk. Grazes his teeth against the back of Richard's neck - then bites down as his cock grazes Richard's prostate. Whispers low in Richard's ear, "You needed this for so long, didn’t you - you could have had it, bro." 

Richard is coming apart at the seams. He's sweating through his hoodie, burning up, blazing. He can feel the soft friction from Jared's sweater vest against his back and that feels more illicit than anything else about this whole strange situation. Every cell in his body is awash in pleasure mixed with the sticky sweet shame of giving in to Ed's entire existence. The thoughts cycling through his head (when he can think anything that's not _more fuck more please right there oh GOD_ ) don't form words really, just dark and stormy pulses of feeling. _Not Real_ and _Fucked Up_ and _You're Letting Him Do This._ Knowing he doesn't deserve to get what he wants when it costs this much. Knowing Jared is willing to pay the price. 

Richard's forehead is on the desk, his knuckles gripping white at the edge of the sleek wood, and he can't remember ever being this hard. He's breathing heavily through his nose, teeth digging into his lower lip trying to stifle all the pathetic noises that are threatening to escape him as Ed continues to drive him relentlessly toward the edge. 

"Fuck, you take my dick like you were made for it, Richard." Ed's barely out of breath, continuing to roll his hips sinuously with every word. "I think you were. Everyone else might be on your dick for that big brain of yours but you and I know what you were _really_ meant for, don't we?” He begins to pump his hips harder now, jostling Richard up the desk like he’s a rag doll, and Richard just takes it, groaning open-mouthed against the desk. “You’re just a hole begging to be filled, aren’t you, Richard? Letting me fuck you any way we want like a good - little - whore." Ed’s hips snap ruthlessly against him with each word, seeking to destroy.

“Ohhhhh _fffffuck_ \--!” Richard moans through gritted teeth, the searing humiliation of Ed’s words coursing through him, and the rising tide of _Not Real_ and _Fucked Up_ and _Wish It Were Jared, You Don’t Deserve Jared_ is getting stronger, and his balls are drawing up and his breath is harsh and ragged, and without warning his orgasm hits him hard. He comes in thick white stripes over the carpet and the underside of his desk, the force of it overwhelming as pleasure throbs through him - it feels immense, neverending, as Ed continues to milk his prostate gleefully. Richard can hear Ed’s laughter distantly over the roaring in his ears, and he flushes in embarrassment as the sound makes his dick twitch again, drooling out another fat drop of come. 

“God, you’re so fucking _easy_ , dude, it’s like I don’t even have to _try_.” But Ed sounds a little breathless now, pleased and smug but a little on edge. “I can't believe you don’t even need my hand on your dick. That’s how much you love this, being used, isn’t it? You fucking _need_ me, you want this so bad, you’re so--you’re so--” Ed pulls out savagely and Richard whimpers at the loss, hating himself for it. He feels boneless, underwater, but he wants to know why Ed stopped so he manages to prop himself up on his elbows and crane his neck to see--

To see Ed, viciously stroking his hard cock like he can’t control his own actions anymore, his wet, open mouth panting with the exertion. His ice blue eyes snap up to meet Richard’s, wild and helpless, and Richard can see the man underneath Ed’s facade for just one electric moment. Richard forces himself to turn away, unable to bear Jared’s eyes on him right now. Instead he focuses on Ed’s bruising grip on his hipbone - that he can bear. It only takes a few more seconds before Richard lets out a soft, shocked “ahh” as Ed comes on his skin, hot splashes trickling down his back, his ass, his thighs. 

They stay still for a long moment, putting the jagged pieces of themselves back together. The only sound in the room is the sound of their breathing: Ed’s already leveling out, Richard’s still rapid and stuttery. Ed uses two fingers to smear some of his come across Richard’s skin like a fingerpainting. Like he’s signing his masterpiece. This final degradation makes Richard keen softly, hanging his head in delicious, awful shame. He makes no move to get off the desk.

After a few seconds of fabric rustling, Richard hears Ed walk away; he doesn’t acknowledge Ed’s “Later, homo,” as he shuts the door of Richard’s office and turns off the light behind him. 

Richard lays there in the dark, covered in a tacky mess of sweat and Ed’s come drying on his skin, and kindles with the humiliation of what he just allowed to happen. He doesn’t even bother to wipe himself off, just pulls his pants up and rucks his shirt and hoodie down so he can sit in his own filth on his ride home like he deserves. As he picks up his laptop bag with a wince, he hears a sound, loud in the empty office.

_Ding!_

The calendar invite is dated for tomorrow. It says _Ed Chambers, 10:30 pm - 11:00 pm, Richard’s office._

Face burning, Richard clicks ‘Accept.’


End file.
